They spent a sour twenty-five minutes waiting for the connection. Roger went out to talk with Warner, while Aubrey fumed in the back office. He could not sit still, and paced the little room in a fidget of impatience, tearing his watch out of his pocket every few minutes. He felt dull and sick with vague fear. To his mind recurred the spiteful buzz of that voice over the wire--"Gissing Street is not healthy for you." He remembered the scuffle on the Bridge, the whispering in the alley, and the sinister face of the druggist at his prescription counter. The whole series of events seemed a grossly fantastic nightmare, yet it frightened him. "If only I were in Brooklyn," he groaned, "it wouldn't be so bad. But to be over here, a hundred miles away, in another cursed bookshop, while that girl may be in trouble--Gosh!" he muttered. "If I get through this business all right I'll lay off bookshops for the rest of my life!" The telephone rang, and Aubrey frantically beckoned to Roger, who was outside, talking. "Answer it, you chump!" said Roger. "We'll lose the connection!" "Nix," said Aubrey. "If Titania hears my voice she'll ring off. She's sore at me." Roger ran to the instrument. "Hullo, hullo?" he said, irritably. "Hullo, is that Wordsworth----? Yes, I'm calling Brooklyn--Hullo!" Aubrey, leaning over Roger's shoulder, could hear a clucking in the receiver, and then, incredibly clear, a thin, silver, distant voice. How well he knew it! It seemed to vibrate in the air all about him. He could hear every syllable distinctly. A hot perspiration burst out on his forehead and in the palms of his hands. "Hullo," said Roger. "Is that Mifflin's Bookshop?" "Yes," said Titania. "Is that you, Mr. Mifflin? Where are you?" "In Philadelphia," said Roger. "Tell me, is everything all right?" "Everything's dandy," said Titania. "I'm selling loads of books. Mrs. Mifflin's gone out to do some shopping." Aubrey shook to hear the tiny, airy voice, like a trill of birdsong, like a tinkling from some distant star. He could imagine her standing at the phone in the back of the shadowy bookshop, and seemed to see her as though through an inverted telescope, very minute and very perfect. How brave and exquisite she was! "When are you coming home?" she was saying. "About seven o'clock," said Roger. "Listen, is everything absolutely O. K.?" "Why, yes," said Titania. "I've been having lots of fun. I went down just now and put some coal on the furnace. Oh, yes. Mr. Weintraub came in a little while ago and left a suitcase of books. He said you wouldn't mind. A friend of his is going to call for them this afternoon." "Hold the wire a moment," said Roger, and clapped his hand over the mouthpiece. "She says Weintraub left a suitcase of books there to be called for. What do you make of that?" "For the love of God, tell her not to touch those books."